


I Can See It In My Mind's Eye

by Phantom_Rick_Is_A_Surgeon_27415



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Body Horror, Dissociation, Flashbacks, Marijuana, Masturbation, Mood Swings, Nightmares, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Self-Medication, Suicide Attempt, Underage Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-07-24 12:21:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7508116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phantom_Rick_Is_A_Surgeon_27415/pseuds/Phantom_Rick_Is_A_Surgeon_27415
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morty comes to terms with his traumatic experiences and the fact that he has ignored the post-traumatic stress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On Fast Forward and Repeat

**Author's Note:**

> The following occurred between the events of "Look Who's Purging Now" and "The Wedding Squanchers."

“Morty! -C-c-burp-ome on! W-w-we gotta go I got places to be. We need to go trade a weapon an—“ “Not tonight R-r-rick…” Morty lay in bed in just his boxers, but it wasn’t late at all, it was barely seven. He had struggled to finish his math homework, but it was done. Rick leaned against the door, “Stop being such a little bitch Morty, I’ll deal with your little emo crisis when I get back then.” Rick trasped down the hall, down the stairs, and into the garage. Morty could hear the garage door open and the ship whir away a few minutes later. He felt pains in his chest, which could be summed up as self-pity and agitation. 

He slowly rolled out of bed and stumbled to his desk, nearly tripping in the process. He plopped in his spinning office chair and spun over towards the lower drawer. He moved all the school papers to the desktop, and lifted up the false bottom, which originally Rick had made to hide his small trinkets from other dimensions (this includes a keychain of a purple alien breast with three nipples and a CD with “What Up Glip Glop?” written on it). Lately it also included a small stash box that held about ten joints. He wasn’t typically what you would call a stoner; he hated the smell and how it attached itself to everything in his bedroom. Yet it was the only thing that helped relax him into a calmer state, made it easier to drift off into a muted sleep, one with no dreams. He had hid it from everyone, even Rick and Summer, the best he could for all he knew, and the why. They both knew though, and it was just assumed that it was a normal phase for a teenage boy. 

It was empty. He had felt too out of it the last few days to even realize he was getting low and needed to text a kid from school who sold pot on the side. He couldn’t deal with people at the moment though, he felt like crumbling mentally. He sighed heavily and debated on asking Summer if she had any, it wouldn’t hurt to try.

“H-hey Summer..” He knocked on her door and waited patiently, “GO AWAY MORTY!” He could hear that she was in there with Toby, “probably fucking” he grumbled. “I-i-i-if you don’t answer my question I’ll tell Dad Toby is here!” He heard scrambling, “They were fucking” he thought to himself. Summer came to the door with an impatient expression on her face. “What do you want twerp?!?” “Do-do you have any pot or does Toby?” “Buy your own you little stoner.” She shut the door, exasperated. He immediately sunk into himself, anxious and disappointed. 

He decided to wait for Rick, so he ventured into his room with his 3DS in tow and collapsed into his cot. He put on his Grandpa’s ipod and popped the earbuds in, the Ramones “I Wanna Be Sedated” began to pump trough his ears, how hilariously ironic he thought. He didn’t skip it though he let it play. He began to play Bravely Default and after 45 minutes time began to melt away. 

Suddenly he saw King Jellybean come into focus, “Come here boy…be a good boy..” It was almost as if Morty was lured in, he was in a trance, and he couldn’t stop himself.” He stood in front of him and got down on his knees. “Fuck!” he thought, his body had betrayed him when all he wanted to do was run away as fast as he could. He felt the jellybeans hands run through his hair. “Please-please don’t!” he pleaded. “Open wide boy..If you don’t I’ll make this even worse for you!” He shut his eyes tight and tried to think that he was doing freaky shit with Jessica. He felt a very hard and ridged penis enter his mouth. “Mor-burp-Morty wake up!?!” He was jolted awake, “Y-y-y-you’re screaming in your sleep again kid” He was back in Rick’s bed, rubbing his eyes and feeling his heart slow down, he noticed Rick’s digital clock said 3 am. It took him awhile to reorient himself, Rick giving him a puzzled look the entire time. 

“King Jellybean is-is dead, right?” “No shit that sick fuck is dead!” Rick had caught himself and paused, “Morty…is th-burp-that what you were dreaming about? That day in the tavern?” “Kind-kind of” He couldn’t believe it had happened again, the nightmares never ended it seemed. He felt numb now. “Do y-y-you want to talk about it Morty?” “Nah not really Rick…” “Head of-burp-off to bed then. Grandpa had a crazy long night, stupid intergalactic arms dealers.” He rolled his eyes, Morty could tell he was beat, so against everything in his fiber he grabbed his stuff and went to his bedroom. 

A few days passed without Rick bringing it up again, he felt as if he had walked in on a secret side of Morty, and he had to some degree. Morty felt shame, like a victim, and he hated feeling like this. 

Then on a stormy evening Morty went to bed around nine, he struggled to sleep, tossing and turning. He finally gave in and went to Rick’s room. “W-w-what’s up Morty?” “Uh….I’m just struggling to sleep and I was wondering if I could crash in here.” Without even turning away from his work Rick said “No problem…just working on schematics for an updated DNA altering serum gun. “ “Rick….” Morty sunk into the cot and waited for him to put everything away, yet he spoke with his head still deep in contemplation over the design. “Yeah Morty?” “I think there’s something wrong with me.” “Any-burp-thing I can help with?”

“I can’t stop having these-these dreams about and remembering…King Jellybean, burying this dimensions versions of us, of that purge planet….of all those other versions of me being tortured. Th-that’s why I haven’t gone out on an outing with you the past few weeks. “Rick looked over at him with widened eyes, realizing what he had done to his own grandson. “Why do you think I drink M-burp-morty to forget everything I’ve seen Morty.” Morty sat with a stunned expression, “No no Morty I’m shitting y-you (he wasn’t) keep going” he rolled his wrist in encouragement to continue.

“I’ve been-been dreading sleep, w-w-when all I can do is dream about this stuff over and over.” “Morty is that why you’ve been smoking joints constantly?” “You knew…?” “Who wouldn’t be able to know? You stink up the entire upstairs. I j-j-just figured you were going through the whole “ teenage drug experimentation” phase. “S-s-so can you help me Rick?” “OH---yeah!” Rick dug around in his filing cabinet. He pulled out a half filled bottle with glowing purple gel caps inside. “W-w-what is that?” Morty fidgeted nervously. “Think of it as a space version of Ambien, from St. Gloopy Noops. It works as a sedative and an anti-nightmare, that part typically lasts 3-4 sleep cycles.” He handed Morty two and he swallowed them with a few big gulps of water.


	2. Even If It Kills Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morty's symptoms intensify and Rick begins to take notice.

“So….how fast does this take—“ “To kick in? About ten-fifteen minutes at most Morty.” “Can I stay with you Rick?” “You-you mean in my bed? Sure kid I can ta-burp-take the couch downstairs.” “Nah Rick I-ah I want you to stay with me, if-if that’s o-o-okay?” “OH-okay Morty so how’s this gonna work?” “Well I-ah I could get in and then you can get in and we can get back-to-back…” “You’re scared?” “Well yeah! -I’ve I’ve had nightmares every night for a month, minus the pot Rick.” “Damn kid okay.” 

Morty climbed into bed and Rick continued to work at his desk on the schematics. He went through the TV channels until he was satisfied he wasn’t missing anything. “R-rick---I feel kinda drunk.” He slurred shutting his eyes. “Okay I’ll be in bed soon Morty, that means it’s kicking in ya know.” 

Morty heard him say this but it felt like Rick was a million miles away, he felt like he was floating, above everything, above himself. “F-f-fuck” he whispered to himself. Time was lost to him and the five minutes it took for Rick to get undressed down to his boxers and climb in bed felt like five hours. The next thing he knew he was laying in soft warm clouds at dusk, mingled in with a soft pink sky. 

The next day Morty awoke to being in Rick’s cot by himself and decided to head down to the kitchen for breakfast. Everyone was gone for the day already, minus Rick who was in the garage. “Did everyone leave early?” “No Morty it’s one in the afternoon.” “W-W-WHAT?!?!” “You slept fourteen hours I F-burp-figured you could use the extra sleep. Don’t worry I called your school.” “Ahh geez, Rick! I’m gonna get even more behind.” Rick listened with an utter distain at how much Morty even cared, he just sighed and rolled his eyes. “Morty, after college—IF you go to college, no one gives a shit what your grades were!” 

After this there wasn’t a problem for a few weeks. Occasionally Morty would ask Rick for the sedative, or, after a nightmare would sleep in his bed. More and more though Morty began to lose time, and wondered what he had done or where he had been. The loss of time felt floaty, like he was somewhere else entirely, like his soul had detached from his physical body. He hated to admit it to himself but he felt this detachment most of the time now. 

It was nearly mid-October now, and Rick was off having a mini vacation with Birdperson. It was late on a Wednesday evening, around eleven, and everyone else was asleep. Rick had left Morty a note not to smoke a joint then take the sedative, but at this point he didn’t care. He felt so detached he wasn’t sure he was a real person. “I wanna feel real.” He thought to himself, so he found an X-acto knife that his father had used on a recent Titanic model. He went to the bathroom, locked the door, sinking to the floor and sighing. He couldn’t believe where he was, he felt shame, a guy, even thinking about cutting. He had to pick a place, “arms-no-wrists-no,” he wanted to fucking cut not die. “Ankle” his mind piped up.

He took an exaggerated inhale and exhale, drew the knife up to his skin, pressed down and let it trace its way around to the back. He did the next few faster, and then the blood began to bubble through the slits, running onto his foot and the floor. He hated to admit, he at the very least felt in his body, he felt present. He sat there a few minutes, to take in what he had just done. He slowly took a cloth and wiped up his ankle, the floor, threw it all in the bathroom trash bin, and covered it with an empty shampoo bottle. He pulled back down his pajamas over the cuts and decided it was time to head to bed. 

When Rick returned on Friday afternoon, even drunk out of his mind he could tell something was off. “Mor-burp-Morty do you wanna go to Blips and Chitz-I GOT TICK-burp-ECTS LEFT!” “Nah R-r-rick I’ll pass….” “Here—hold-burp-hold on Morty. I knew you had been down, so in some down time I made you something.” He dug down into the backseat of the ship and pulled out a realistic doll that looked like Jessica. “Its mostly si-burp-silicone—its so realistic kiddo she can take your virginity!?!” Morty held “Jessica” and looked at it, stunned, at how life like it was. “After about fifteen climaxes you-you gotta dump out her cunt, or she’ll start growing some weird stiff embryo mold.” Morty didn’t want to know how Rick found that magical number, but he immediately ran and carried her upstairs before Beth came home from work. Later that night Rick sat in his room, satisfied for the first time in awhile that Morty had something to occupy him. On the way down to the garage he heard muffled moans. “Somebody’s busy” he chuckled to himself. 

He fell asleep making a prototype of the serum gun. Out of the blackness rose a disfigured Morty; most of his arms burned down to the bone, yet pieces of flesh and muscle still dangling in some places. “R-r-rick help me..”Morty’s voice echoed into the blackness, “It hurts Rick…kill me. Please Rick. Make it stop.” In his left hand appeared a gun, “No No No not this way “ he thought, “NOOOO.” He fired the gun and woke up in the same moment. “Fuck-fuckin’ weird dream” he said to himself as he got up for a glass of water and then to head up to bed. 

He switched on the kitchen light to find Morty chugging orange juice in a sleep shirt and boxers. “H-hey M-burp-morty-late night?” “Y-yea Rick….thanks for the-uh Jessica, she-she’s great!” “No problem—you know you’re a good kid Mor-burp-morty.” Rick found himself hugging Morty tightly, he didn’t want to mention the nightmare, and he hoped he never had to. 

After a week or so Morty came back around to the idea of Blips and Chitz. He and Rick won so many tickets they were able to get a new virtual reality helmet for Rick’s underground lair. When they reached home Rick excitedly went down the ladder to set it up. “H-hey Rick I’m gonna take a shower and go to bed..” “Do you want me to come lay down with you?” “N-no I’ll be okay I think.” Rick could feel how distant Morty had become; he had a tugging in his chest over the whole thing. He himself had dealt with traumatic events, but over time they faded.

Without a second thought he took a sedative and downed it with a swig of whiskey.When Morty was out of the shower and back in his room, he fumbled into the bathroom, knocking over the trashcan. What Rick saw both scared and enlightened him, even in his medicated state. There lying on the floor was a washcloth, smeared and soaked in fresh blood. He rung it out in the sink, tucked it into his lab coat, proceeded to piss and walk back to his room to pass out. He shot Beth and Jerry a text half conscious “Need to have familyy meeting-about Morty.” He would have to debate on what exactly to do in the morning. 

Morty awoke the next morning with a headache, but decided he needed to go to school anyway, he couldn’t miss anymore. “Bye Mom-bye Rick!” he yelled as he ran out the door to the bus. Rick sighed sitting down at the kitchen table with Beth and Jerry. “So what’s the problem dad?” Beth looked to him with sad, worried eyes. Rick knew that by the end of this conversation they would both be drunk by noon. “Beth—Morty has been self injuring-I-I-I honestly don’t think he’s suicidal or anything. I think he has some kind of—“ he waved his wrist in a circle until he could find his words, “post traumatic stress. He’s been through some scary, traumatic stuff with me.” He quietly took the washcloth out of his lab coat pocket and put it on the table. Beth picked it up and held it against her chest “My-my poor baby…” she began to cry as Jerry had decided he had held his tongue for too long. “THIS IS ALL YOUR FUCKING FAULT RICK.” “Which is why-why I’m coming to you both as his parents asshole! I’m owning it I’m admitting its my fault.” He slumped back, “I-I think Morty needs psychiatric care.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you at all feel triggered by this content please contact the crisis textline at 741-741(US only)


	3. You've Been Left All Black & Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Smiths make the decision to get Morty help, but is it too late?

“What do you mean Dad?” “I mean I think Morty needs meds and-and therapy, I’ve done all I can on my own…Beth…Beth I don’t want him to end up like me. I-I don’t wa-burp-want Morty drinking his life away..” “Dad…” Beth questioned sternly, “What do you mean you’ve done all you can on your own?” Rick looked down avoiding her gaze, “I’ve been giving him my sedative…it’s been..pretty bad. You should hear him..” He trailed off momentarily, as both Beth and Jerry’s faces twist in worry. “Screams in his sleep, wakes up shaking. When I-I ask him about it, he just curls into a ball, avoiding it altogether.” In that moment Jerry sighed, “So what do we do Rick?” “The same people who ran Nupita 4 also run an incredible mental health inpatient clinic out near there, a-a few buddies of mine say its alright. If you’re both okay with that? We can take him there this weekend as a family.” “What about Summer, Rick-how are we gonna explain this that’s happening to our son to her? What if they have those strange machines that turn all his flashbacks real?!?!?” “Jerry-Jerry Morty is not you or Beth! Secondly we can tell Summer before we talk to Morty, she’s stronger than you think.” Jerry folded his arms, evidently not at all satisfied, but he was sick of arguing. 

Beth texted Summer, “Need to talk to U about your brother when U get home DO NOT TELL HIM,” and then quickly went to work. Jerry went back to his Titanic model. Rick wondered if he had done the right thing, getting his daughter and Jerry involved, but Morty was technically their responsibility, and they were just blind to the damage. 

Later that evening while Beth was starting dinner she asked Summer to help, but it was also to discuss Morty. “Moooom I want to go to the mall with Toby.” “There are other things going on in this family other than your social life.” “Well its stupid-and we’re all here for the stupid because you couldn’t use birth control.” “Fucking not tonight Summer. As Summer was getting the plates from the cabinet Beth began to crack, she felt her face grimace and her hand reach for a wine bottle on the counter. Pouring herself a glass she paused, “honey..Morty…Morty is sick.” “As in he needs rehab,” Summer laughed. “Like I don’t know…” Beth felt uneasy… “He’s been—we think he has a form of PTSD.” “Oh…” Summer felt her cheeks flush up half embarrassed and half ashamed of herself. The kitchen went quiet for the next thirty minutes. “He needs meds…and therapy,” again the kitchen fell silent. 

Slowly and silently they brought the bowls of salad, spaghetti, and toasted bread, Morty’s favorite, out to the dining room. Summer sent out a group text to Rick, Jerry, and Morty “Dinner is ready”. 

After everyone came down and made a plate, Beth struggled to find the words, “This is what wine and vodka is for” she thought. “Morty-there’s something we need to discuss with you-“ “Yeah I know you got that email about me failing that biology test-“”Not about that Morty,” she said sternly. Calm and steadily she nodded to Rick and he produced the blood soaked cloth. “Your grandpa Rick has told your father and I what’s been going on-“ “Bu-“ “The sedatives, the self injury, the-the numbness.” Morty gave Rick a death glare across the table.” Hey kid I’m just trying to help,” he stated calmly stuffing another fork full into his mouth. “We want you to know we love you and we want you to get well honey-we want to know what you think about going into treatment?” “You mean like-like a mental hospital? Where they put crazy people?” Rick took a heavy sigh, “Morty you would be there a month max-it’d get you started on therapy and medication. You’d be in a place where you-c-c-burp-couldn’t hurt yourself. And oh by the way your grandpa’s been in a few himself.” Morty’s eyes grew to the size of planets at the thought of Rick in a loony bin. “Can I h-h-have some time to think about it?” “Yes honey-we respect your wishes-we’ll give you until tomorrow afternoon.”

That night Morty felt like he was reaching a new low. He cried like what felt like two hours, and he attempted another slice into his ankle, but alas found his dads model tools locked in a cabinet. He sulked back to his room and drummed his fingers on his desk, debating. He wanted to be anywhere but there, to not exist, and to feel real all at the same time. 

Around 2 am after everyone had passed out, he crept downstairs to the garage. He pulled a large flask labeled “flame inducer” out of a cabinet off to the side. He had seen Rick use it before when he was working with highly contagious bacteria; in small amounts it produced a quick flame of purple glow. Against his better judgment, he took off his shirt and began to coat his chest in a thin layer; it smelled like a combination of old, worn out grease and gas. A quick inhale and he popped an open flame from Rick’s pocket lighter. 

Everything burned, there was no flame but it glowed bright, like he was a human glow stick. Everything felt incrediably slow and in fast-forward at the same time. “SH-SH-SHIT SHIT SHIT” Morty dropped to the ground setting off a new emergency system, setting off a blaring alarm and locking down the entire house. 

All he could feel was the gel like liquid eating his flesh away, he was frozen and things began to grow heavy. “Morty stay with us-us..” he heard echo as he finally shut his eyes, blacking out.


End file.
